But for the Grace of God
by Pyxelle
Summary: This is an alternate reality story inspired by the episode “The Wish”. I had speculated about how the characters might have got where they were in that story, since the world was so radically different from the ‘real’ buffyverse.
1. Default Chapter

SUMMARY: This is an alternate reality story inspired by the episode "The Wish". I had speculated about how the characters might have got where they were in that story, since the world was so radically different from the 'real' buffyverse. It starts approximately at the same time as the start of the show, "Welcome to the Hellmouth." It is the first part in a series I am writing chronicling this alternate reality.

I've posted this before, but I've substantially edited and broke up the chapters, so for simplicity's sake I'm simply putting it up again.

Have fun!

Pyxelle

**But For the Grace of God**

**Part 1**

Reality is a fluid entity. We shape our fate daily, choosing the path that reality will follow. Some choices are small, insignificant. They barely make a ripple in the ocean of reality. Others make more of a splash - if Albert Einstein had pursued his dream of becoming a violinist rather than a theoretical physicist, the atomic bomb may have still been in the hands of science fiction authors rather than the heads of nations. And then, there are those choices that seem small in the great scheme of things, but whose impact goes beyond simply making a splash.

Some choices can cause a tidal wave.

"I want your opinion, Buffy. This isn't just my choice. Its yours too."

Buffy Summers looked at her mom briefly, then curled her feet under her on the couch. She wiggled her toes against the couch, biting her lip and not answering right away. Her choice, too. Not much of one, in her opinion. Move to Sunnydale, whose place on the map barely occupied the head of a pin, or Cleveland, which was…. well, _Cleveland._

Sunnydale - she had become accustomed to the idea that they would be moving there. In fact, most of her things were already packed. But she wasn't looking forward to it. For one thing, it was a small town - most of the kids would have grown up together, and everyone's social status would already have been engraved in stone. She would have enough problems without having to be the new girl for the rest of her high school career. Still, that wasn't the real reason she had been unhappy about the move. She had a duty, and the sweet little town of Sunnydale didn't really seem to be the best place to utilize her own unique talents.

After all, she was the Slayer.

And vamps would probably be plaguing Cleveland a lot more than some little town in sunny California.

"Buffy? You still there?"

"Huh?" Buffy snapped back to the here and now. Her mother was still looking at her expectantly. "Yeah. I just don't know. I mean, where would you rather go?"

"Well, I was looking forward to Sunnydale. We have been preparing to move there for weeks." Joyce hesitated. "But the offer work at the Cleveland Museum of Art, well…its an incredible opportunity."

"I know, Mom. It's way cool. I just wish they would have given you more notice."

"Me, too." She shrugged. "I honestly wasn't expecting them to call at all. I knew it was a long shot when I sent my resume out to all those museums last spring. When we hadn't heard anything by now, I was sure I was out of the running."

"Guess not."

"But like I said, this as much your decision as mine. We are all set to head out to Sunnydale. I won't change that plan if you hate the idea of Cleveland."

Her mom really had no idea of the quandary that she had put Buffy in. Despite her qualms about abandoning her duty as Slayer, a small part of her had rejoiced at the chance to have a normal life again. To go out to dances, have pig-out fests with her girlfriends and make-out fests with her boyfriends. It was easy to feel righteous when she had no choice but Sunnydale, because she could fool herself into thinking that it was fate that had pulled her from her duties. But now that she had a choice, the siren song of a normal life was hard to ignore. The small part which had whispered before was shouting at her now.

But which path to take…take her destiny in her hands, or run from it and live the glorious life of a normal teenager?

She made her decision.

Rupert Giles put the last book on the shelf, and stepped back to admire his handiwork. It had taken a long time to set up the new section in the library, especially because the kids at Sunnydale High seemed to avoid the library like the plague - which meant a severe shortage of helpers. He managed anyways, and now the bookshelves with the mild label of "Mythology" were organized and catalogued. He was thorough. There was enough information here that he felt confident that his new charge would not lack for knowledge.

He heard the doors of the library open, that soft _whoosh_ that he had already attuned his ears to hear. He started toward the checkout desk, glancing back once proudly at his collection.

"Hello? Hello-o!" A boys voice called out.

"Yes." Giles stepped out from behind the desk. Two students stood there, one a shy looking girl with long auburn hair and the other a rather gangly young man in a plaid shirt. "I am Mr. Giles, the new librarian. Can I help you?"

The girl stepped forward. "Um, yes please. I need to pick up a book - for my advanced physics class. I just got bumped up from the regular class."

"Yes, of course." Giles stepped over to the piles of textbooks he had organized earlier in the week. "Which book?"

"Theories and Applications of Physics."

He located the book in short order. There were very few of them, as the class was very small, but the pile was no shorter than the others due to the extreme size of the text. He hefted it onto the table. "If I could just have your name, please?"

"Willow Rosenberg." Her eyes were wide at the sight of the monstrous textbook. "That whole thing is for one class?"

"Geez, Will. You could bench press that thing." Her friend picked up the book and pretended to be pulled down by the weight of it. "I've got a set of wheeled luggage if you need a way to get this to class."

"Xander, give me my book." Willow made a swipe for the text and pulled it out his hands. It was really heavy - her falter at its weight wasn't faked. She frowned as she shoved it into her backpack. "I might have to take you up on that luggage offer. It really does weigh a ton."

"Anything for you?" Giles queried, directing his question at the boy.

"Nope. I'm all set." He held up a small stack of books, the top one being a thin volume that proclaimed "Woodwork Today - A Guide for the Beginner." He grinned, an open smile that Giles liked. "Not all of us are trying to cram the entire Encyclopedia Britannica into our heads."

The phone in his office began to ring. Giles started towards the door, smiling slightly at the students. "It was nice to meet you. "

"Yeah, you too. " The red-haired Willow agreed as he walked out the door.

He stepped in and picked up the phone. "Hello, Sunnydale High Library."

"Mr. Giles. This is Lewis Donovan."

Giles froze. Donovan was important in the council of Watchers. His calling so soon, before the Slayer even arrived, was not a good sign. "Yes? "

"Circumstances have changed. We are having to alter our plans. Rather radically, I'm afraid."

"All right…what kind of alterations are we talking about?"

"Alterations in the matter of the Slayer. She is no longer coming to Sunnydale."

He sat down hard, stunned. He had moved here, taken a job in this tiny library, and now she wasn't coming? "What happened?"

"Her mother took another job, outside of California."

He had already come across an ocean for this duty, and supposed a few states wouldn't make much of a difference. "All right…this is unexpected, but I can leave as soon as I get my resignation in-"

"That won't be necessary. She needs guidance now. A replacement has already been sent."

Replacement. He wasn't sure he had heard that right. "Replacement?"

"I know that this is all happening very quick, and I am sorry. But it was necessary."

Giles was sure this was Donovan's doing. He had been dead set against Giles taking charge of Buffy Summers, and hadn't bothered to hide his disappointment when he had been outvoted.

"I -"

"You can come back if you want, but it might be a good idea to wait a few months. Get a little settled. Do some research. We can hold down the fort here for you."

He was being dismissed. He knew it, and he knew that Donovan knew it. He wanted this conversation to end. "Very well. "

"Good bye, Rupert."

Giles put the phone gently on its cradle. Then he slammed his fist into the surface of the desk, the sound of his flesh slapping the wood loud in the empty library.

"Bloody hell."

"Willow - hey, Will. Will!" Xander Harris tried to get his best friends attention without letting the spoon he was balancing slip from his nose. He continued proudly. "Two minutes and counting."

"That's great, Xander." Willow said absently. She didn't seem to really hear him, though she wasn't paying too much attention to the band, either. The Bronze was crowded tonight, being Friday, but Willow seemed very lost in her own world. Xander decided to forgo trying for the world record of spoon-on-the-nose.

"What's up, Willow? You seem awfully distracted."

"Oh. Sorry. I'm just a little worried about Jesse. He should have been here by now."

Their friend Jesse was two hours late, but since he wasn't all that reliable - at least punctually - Xander didn't see the need to worry yet. "Don't worry, Will. He'll be along. He's probably just out trying to see if Cordelia decided to join the Great Land 'o the Geeks and," he gasped theatrically, " go out with him."

"Yeah." Willow shook her head a bit ruefully. "Somehow I don't think her royal highness is going to abdicate her throne, though."

"Her Royal Highness" happened to walk by at just that moment. She looked gorgeous, as always, her lustrous dark hair perfectly arranged, her face as perfect as a porcelain doll, and her body...well, of course, Xander couldn't help but notice that. But unlike his friend Jesse, he was able to get past it and see Cordelia Chase as she really was - a caustic, conceited witch.

At least, in his opinion.

"Hey. I know what will cheer you up." Xander picked up his glass and banged it on the table like a gavel. " I hereby call an impromptu meeting of the 'We Hate Cordelia Club.'"

Willow couldn't help but grin. "All members assembled."

"The agenda, Madame Secretary?"

"A healthy dose of Cordy-bashing. Beginning with the Top Ten list."

They didn't even get to the first item on the list, however. The person who was responsible for the formation of the WHCC stopped at their table, her troupe close behind her as usual. "Xander. Willow. Aren't you the cute couple. The perpetually dateless and hopelessly fashion impaired all over the world must look at you two and feel hope."

Despite himself, he felt the girl's insults cut. "You'd better check outside, Cordelia. Your little black cat might be getting lonely out by the broomstick."

"Oh. Ouch." Cordelia laughed, a sign to the Cordettes behind her to laugh as well. "That wit must be why Jesse ditched you two tonight. I know that I couldn't stand the thrill of it every day."

"He didn't ditch us." Willow piped up loyally. "He's just not here yet."

"Oh, yeah? Then who is that leaving right now?"

Xander frowned and scanned the crowd. True enough, Jesse was just stepping out the door, an attractive blonde on his arm. A "way to go Jesse!" almost passed his lips, but his annoyance with the fact that Cordelia had a point stopped it. "Hey! Jesse!"

Jesse didn't move from his course, and disappeared out the door. Xander rolled his eyes. "Willow, the air's gotten rancid in here." He said with a pointed look towards Cordelia, whose Chanel No. 5 perfume always seemed to hover around her in an almost visible haze. "Lets go after Jesse, see what's up."

Willow stood and walked out the door with Xander to the sound of titters behind them. Once outside, she turned to the dark haired boy and rose her eyebrows. "We're not really going to go after Jesse, right? I mean, he did leave with a girl and all…"

"Nah." Xander was still a little annoyed, but shrugged it off. Jesse didn't often get dates - pretty much a big never there, actually. "I think -"

Jesse's voice cut him off, near but not talking to him. "Darla…Darla, wait up." His voice sounded funny, detached. He stumbled past them, not even ten feet away but not seeing them. A blond woman was running in front of him, slowly, just fast enough that she was always just in front of him. Jesse was clutching his neck as if in pain. He pulled it away and paused briefly, supporting himself on a light pole. "Darla."

Xander's frown deepened. Something was wrong here, though he couldn't tell what.

Willow noticed a bit more than he did. "Xander." She said. "Did you see his neck?"

"No…"

"I did. When he grabbed the light pole." Her voice was trembling. "I think he was bleeding."

"Do you think that girl hurt him?" His voice didn't sound much better than hers.

"I don't know…I don't think that he would follow her if she hurt him or something, do you?"

"No, probably not…maybe they got mugged." Xander suddenly felt a great deal edgier. If they had been mugged, there was a good chance that the perpetrator was still around. He grabbed Willow's arm, pulling her along for a few paces. "Hey! Jesse! Hang on a minute!"

The girl and Jesse were running faster than before, and Jesse either didn't hear him or was ignoring him, because he didn't even slow down. The girl, however, glanced back once, and her and Xander's eyes locked for one moment. Willow gasped beside him, but he didn't really register it. That one moment lasted an eternity.

Her face was contorted, the forehead ridging unnaturally and her feral yellow eyes piercing his. Through her lips her teeth gleamed, sharp and prominent, and she hissed at him. Xander stumbled backwards at the sight, dragging Willow with him, his hold on her tightening to a death grip. Willow gave a scream that had no strength behind it, sounding quiet even to his ears.

Then they rounded the corner and were gone.

Xander and Willow stood there for a moment, shocked into a dull silence. Willow was the first to break it.

"Oh. Oh. Oh."

Releasing her arm, he turned to her. He winced at the indents where his fingers had left marks in her flesh. "Willow. Will. Are you ok?"

"Oh. Oh." She took a deep breath and turned and hugged him tightly. He held her, grateful for the contact. "Oh, Xander. What was that? What is going on?"

"I don't know, Willow." He tried to keep his voice steady and failed. "I don't know."

She pulled away, looking at him worriedly. "Xander, that…that thing has Jesse."

He didn't want to think about that, but his conscience won out over his fear. "I'm going to go after him."

"Xander, no. Its not safe." Willow was becoming frantic.

"I have to, Will. He's my friend." He took her by the shoulders. "Go home. Lock the door. I'll call you as soon as I get home."

"No…no, I am going to come with you." Her words were brave, but her tone was anything but certain.

"Please, Willow. Just go home and…and be careful."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, then closed it. "O..okay." She stammered. "But promise me that you'll be safe."

"I promise." Why did he feel like he was lying?

"Should I call the police? When I get home?"

Xander's first instinct was to tell her yes, but on second thought he shook his head. "What are you going to tell them? That our friend just ran off with…with…something really ugly and with really sharp teeth?" He shook his head, starting off in the direction that Jesse had went before he lost his nerve. "Go home, Willow. I'll call you soon."

Leaving Willow behind, Xander increased his speed as he ran around the corner. _What the hell am I doing?_ He thought, even as his shoes pounded against the pavement_. How am I going to even get Jesse away from that…thing? _Playing hero might get him killed, but he couldn't stop himself. Jesse needed his help, that at least he was sure of.

He skidded to a stop. Faintly he could hear Jesse's voice calling again for "Darla."

They were in the cemetery.

Following the voice of his friend, Xander moved more cautiously now, crouching behind tombstones and dashing from one cover to the next. He was getting closer, gaining because Jesse seemed to be slowing down. "Want to try something wild?" A woman's voice - Darla - asked coyly, "In the Mausoleum. I'll be waiting."

This was his chance. He waited maybe five seconds, then sprinted in able to catch up with Jesse. He caught his friend's arm a few yards from the door of the Mausoleum. "Jesse." He tried to keep his voice low, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be heard by the creature within the stone walls. "Jesse, we have to get out of here."

His forward momentum stopped, Jesse seemed to lose the strength to keep going. "Xander?" he asked, his eyes glazed as he fell to the ground. The wound on his throat was obvious now, deep puncture wounds that still bled freely. It almost looked like a -

Vampire bite.

A vampire bite?

There were no…such…things…

His mind reeled, his reality shattering around him. A vampire. Vampires were real. Vampires were in Sunnydale. The world he had grown up in - the safe, quiet world where the only demons to be found were the ones that a psychiatrist could help and vampires were the things that Anne Rice made up fictions about - that world was not real, it was a mirage, an illusion, and right now it had fallen apart in an instant.

These thoughts, his shock, lasted only a moment before fear motivated him to move.

It was a moment too late.

"Oh, look." The vampire Jesse had called Darla stepped out of the crypt. "Jesse brought a friend." The kick to his chest seemed to come out of nowhere, and he flew into a gravestone not far from where they were standing, knocking the breath out of him. Darla sauntered up to him. "Or were you trying to play hero, little boy?" She leaned over him, her lips upturned in a little playful smile. "Fun. I can give the Master two presents tonight…or maybe you'd rather stay with me. " The smile widened. "Yes. I think I might keep you for myself. I could use a new …pet."

His breath returning, he tried to take advantage of her closeness and push her away from him. Maybe if he could just get her far enough away to give him a running start, he could get away.

She caught his hand before he even touched her. "Tsk tsk tsk, loverboy. This isn't the way to start off a healthy relationship." She kissed his hand, ever so gently, and he had to fight the revulsion that he felt at that face caressing his hand. She locked eyes with him, the feral yellow of hers meeting his brown. "You have to be kind. Giving. " She bit him suddenly, at the tip of his index finger, drawing blood. Her tongue licked the wound, her eyes never leaving his. "Especially giving." Her face went thoughtful. "I like you." She had a sultry voice, even when her appearance was like this. "You taste…pure. Innocent."

"Are you done playing, Darla?" Another vampire stepped out of the crypt, and Xander felt what little hope he had die. The was the slimmest of chances - the very slimmest - that he would be able to escape from Darla, but he would never get away from the two of them. "The Master's waiting."

"Yes." Darla motioned her head towards Jesse. "Take him down with you. I have to help my new," she paused, her eyes roaming up and down Xander's body. "Friend."

Her fist connected with the side of his head. There was a blinding pain, and the sound of an amused chuckle.

Then blackness.

**End of Part One**

**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

SUMMARY: This is an alternate reality story inspired by the episode "The Wish". I had speculated about how the characters might have got where they were in that story, since the world was so radically different from the 'real' buffyverse. It starts approximately at the same time as the start of the show, "Welcome to the Hellmouth." It is the first part in a series I am writing chronicling this alternate reality.

This is not my first foray into fanfic, but my first into the Buffy series. I really appreciate feedback (hopefully good, but if you need to criticize please go easy on me!)

**But For the Grace of God**

**Part 2**

Xander's disappearance seemed to make hardly a ripple in the lives of most of the Sunnydale students. It was a topic of gossip for about three days, and thereafter the general consensus was that he had dropped out of school and skipped town. He never did very well in school, the students all knew that, but few knew him well enough to know that dropping out just wasn't his style. So the student body moved on quickly, letting that ripple smooth out and life continued at Sunnydale as it always did.

Except for Willow Rosenberg.

She had stayed up all night that Friday, waiting for Xander's call, clutching a stuffed puppy dog he had once given her for Hanukah. When he didn't call by morning, she had gone to his house, gripping the dog in a vise like hold and unaware she was still holding it. His mother had yelled at her repeatedly for waking her up, despite Willow's stammered apologies, and told her angrily that her no-good son had never come home the night before. She slammed the door in Willow's face, either oblivious to the tears on her face or not seeing them.

Willow had walked home in a daze. Xander couldn't be gone. It just couldn't be possible. But as the days passed, her heart sunk lower and lower. The worst moment was when Jesse's body turned up in an abandoned lot near the cemetery. Xander's body wasn't there, but the signs were definitely not good. Her parents tried to be understanding, but she couldn't talk to them about what had really happened. She had unknowingly deduced on her own the same conclusion as Xander had - the creature that had taken Jesse and, apparently, Xander, was a vampire. It was the only thing that made sense. Though, in all honesty, it didn't make any sense at all considering the fact that until a few days ago she would have laughed her head off if someone told her that they actually believed in vampires.

She stayed home from school the Monday after the disappearance, and Tuesday as well, before Willow decided that she would do the only thing she could think of that might be useful.

She would research it.

Wednesday afternoon, after her excruciatingly long Xander-less day, she strode purposefully into the library. Looking up 'vampires' in the card catalog, she found a wealth of volumes dedicated to the undead - all of them fiction. She browsed through them anyways, trying to glean what she could, but the 'rules' of vampirism changed at each authors whim and she didn't know what, if any of it, to believe. Sometimes all you had to do was be bitten to become a vampire, sometimes you had to drink the vampires blood. Some said that holy items would repel the undead, others insisted that the only reason that worked was because of a vampires psychological fear of such objects. Contradictions abounded. She sighed deeply and dropped her head to the table.

Mr. Giles walked out of his office, followed by a young man a few inches taller that her with spiky red hair. Willow steeled herself. Giles was pretty cool. Hopefully he wouldn't laugh at her for asking for volumes on vampire lore. Maybe she could pass it off as a paper she was writing.

The librarian and the boy were completing their conversation, which was apparently about the boy making up some test in the library tomorrow. She waited patiently, and after a moment Giles looked up at her and smiled. It was a sad smile, a smile full of pity. Already she had gotten to hate that smile from the people around her - they had given up on Xander so easily. He wasn't gone. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be. It just was…not…possible.

"Willow. How are you doing?" That was another thing she was growing to hate. How did people think she was doing? Her best friend had gone missing! She was doing lousy! She was feeling abysmally rotten!

"Fine." She said.

"Do you know Oz here?" Giles indicated the boy next to him.

"No. Nice to meet you." She nodded abstractly at him.

"Hi." Oz's voice was appreciative, but Willow didn't notice it.

"What can I do for you, Willow?" Giles asked.

Surprisingly, she didn't feel embarrassed. "I need to find some books on vampires."

The librarian frowned and looked at her intensely. "There are plenty of them in the fiction section - under horror."

"No, I don't want a fiction book. I want something on the history of vampires…the mythology. What beliefs are and are not true." Drat. She'd said too much. "Or what people believe is true and what is…not."

"Oz, I'll see you tomorrow." The boy seemed a bit startled to be dismissed so suddenly, but just nodded.

"Later, Giles." Very laid back. He left.

A moment passed with Giles simply looking at her. "What do you want that for?"

She was stumped for a moment. She hadn't expected a cross examination. Then she remembered her paper excuse. "Ah, for a paper?"

Unfortunately, she was an awful liar. She would have been better off just nodding, because now the librarian seemed to be in full suspicion mode. "Which class?"

"Uh…hist…creative writing."

"Really."

"Um…yeah."

Giles seemed to vacillate between something, repeatedly glancing down beneath his desk and back at her. Finally he seemed to come to a decision.

He reached down and pulled a large, old looking volume from beneath the desk, clutching it to his chest so that she could not see the cover. "Please come into my office for a moment, Willow."

Following him, she wondered if she had made a mistake by trying to enlist his help. She sat down in the chair across from him, expecting him to put the book down, but he continued to hold it. "Now, Willow." He took a deep breath. "Tell me the real reason you want these books."

Uh oh. "I told you. A paper."

"For History."

"Yes."

"Or creative writing."

She winced. "Oh, yeah."

Giles didn't say anything. He merely looked at her. The seconds ticked by.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Finally the pressure that had been building in Willow burst. She let out a harsh sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and shrugged. "Why not tell you? If I'm crazy, someone'll find out eventually, and if not, we'll probably all end up dead." Tears were flowing freely down her face now. "You know Jesse? The kid that died? He was my friend. And he was killed by a vampire. And Xander? I think the vampire has him too, or ki…ki…" she couldn't get the word out. Wordlessly Giles handed her a tissue and let her tears run their course. She gained control of herself a few moments later.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you." She said flatly.

"No. No, I don't."

She was so surprised that her hand froze with the tissue halfway to her face. "You…you don't?"

"No. I don't." He placed the book down in front of her. In large, archaic letters on the cover the word VAMPYR was spelled out. She was speechless. Giles stood and paced a moment, taking his glasses off and massaging his temples. "I knew this was going to happen. The portents said the Slayer should come here. God knows Cleveland isn't the place for her. We are sitting on a Hellmouth, for God's sake. Buffy should be here, not bloody _Cleveland!"_

Willow stared at him, mouth open. She didn't understand most of what he was saying, referring to slayers and portents and mouths of hell and just what kind of a name was Buffy anyways?

The librarian - though Willow was beginning to have doubts about what he really was - sat down again. "You're not crazy." He said, and sighed. "We have a lot to talk about."

**OoooOoooO**

The preternaturally sensitive ears of a vampire come in very useful at times. This was one of those times…though Angel didn't really understand the conversation to which he was listening. One thing he did understand, however, was that Buffy Summers was not coming to Sunnydale. That disturbed him. When he had confirmed that this was where she was going to be, and her Watcher came, it had seemed to be only a matter of time before the Slayer and he met face to face. But now…

Angel watched from the Library door, seeing Willow Rosenberg through the glass of Giles' office. Pure dumb luck had brought him here at this moment, when he was coming to see the Watcher since he had been unable to locate the Slayer. His information was important - the Harvest was coming, and soon - and if Buffy wasn't going to be here, maybe this girl could help.

He listened to her pour her heart out to Giles, noting with an almost silent hiss the mention of Darla's name. His heart lifted when he heard that Xander's body had not been found. Knowing Darla, if she hadn't disposed of his body yet, she was probably keeping him with her. She liked to toy with her prey on occasion, which extended their lives - but at a terrible cost.

Xander was probably still alive.

And Angel thought he knew where.

They had killed Jesse in front of him. The Master - as he was called by the other vampires - had drained him dry and dropped him in front of Xander's cell. There he had lay for God knows how long, dead eyes staring at him, before one of the vamps who Xander had dubbed the Monster Minions took him away.

Had to keep his sense of humor. Had to stay sane.

Which wasn't easy. He wasn't sure how he had been chained here - in the dark the seconds swelled and lengthened and the minutes never ended. The only measure of time he had was Darla's visits, which he assumed came daily. Each day she fed on him, never very much, but enough to keep him weak, helpless. He counted the number of bite marks on his body, and by this gruesome timepiece had guessed that he had been chained here seven or eight days.

It seemed longer.

He was hungry too. They did feed him, three times a day, and plenty of it, but his overtaxed body was protesting the constant repairs he was forcing on it. His guess was that Darla didn't want to kill him right away…she wanted to keep him strong as long as possible. Xander had considered going on a hunger strike, but quickly realized that all that would do would be to speed his own demise. His best chance was to do exactly what they wanted…and stay alive long enough to get a chance to escape.

So he waited. Most of his thoughts centered around Willow. Thank God he had made her go home. She was safe. He was sure that she was going out of her mind with worry - after all, this was Willow the Worry Wart. Besides, he knew how she felt about him - how her feelings had been changing. He knew that it would make it that much harder for her.

He had resisted it. She was so comfortable, his best friend, and the thought of romantic relations, though appealing in some ways, was frightening as well. If it didn't work out, he didn't think he could stand losing her friendship. So he had kept his feelings platonic. Safe. Now, in the cage, clinging to her image in order to keep his sanity, he could see how his fear had cheapened her feelings , had cheapened his own. _I swear, if I ever get out of here, I'm going to grab Willow and give her a great big kiss. And see where it goes from there. _

But it was looking less and less likely that he would ever see her again. He hoped, he prayed, but his spirit was starting to waver.

And then there was a ray of light.

It came in the form of a man, tall, with dark hair. Xander had been dozing when he came, drifting in and out of consciousness. He awoke to a voice, so soft it took him some time to realize it wasn't in his mind.

"Xander?"

The teenager looked through the bars, squinting to get a better look. The black clothes the stranger wore allowed him to blend into the shadows eerily. "Are you Xander Harris?" The stranger asked.

"Yes. " he scrambled to his feet - or tried to, he got halfway up before the choke collar around his neck became taut and he was jerked back down. He gagged, coughed and then repeated himself. "Yes. I'm Xander."

The stranger glanced down the corridor, then took off his leather jacket and looped it around the lock. "I'm Angel." He brought his fist down hard on the lock, the breaking of it muffled by the leather but the noise still echoed. The man who called himself Angel winced and opened the door. "I know you don't know me, but there's no time to explain. I'm a friend of Willow's. I'm going to get you out of here."

Xander's heart soared. Willow had come through! The surge of love that he felt for her at that moment was pure, shining and bright. "Angel. " He said softly. "How appropriate."

The man didn't answer, but knelt down next to him and examined the locks. "Solid." He said. "I don't think I can break these." His gaze rose and rested on the iron loops screwed into the wall where Xander's chains were attached. "You might have to wear them for a while." He looped a length of chain around his wrist, warning, "This might hurt." He yanked.

The loop popped out of the wall with a shower of dust and gravel, but surprisingly little noise. Xander stood upright for the first time in days, gritting his teeth as his sore muscles stretched, still weighted down by the chains. "Wow. You're pretty, um, strong."

"Yes. A shame he's so impulsive."

Both Xander and Angel froze at the amused voice coming from the hall. Darla stepped into the light, dressed in a short plaid skirt and simple white blouse. She wore her human face, but the delight on it was cold. "Angel. It's been so long."

"Hello, Darla." Angel stood. If possible, his face became even harder. "Not long enough."

"No sweet hellos?" Several other vampires, all members of the Monster Minions, followed Darla in revealing themselves. Xander's fragile hope shattered. They were woefully outnumbered, and even if they weren't he was too weak to help much. The female vampire, looking deceptively innocent, walked closer to Angel. "And I was so hoping that you had come back to join me."

Angel glanced down at Xander, and he thought that he saw guilt in the man's eyes. "Those days are gone, Darla."

"They wouldn't have to be. All you need to do is accept what you are. Be it." Xander backed up as Darla switched his attention to him. "He smells good, doesn't he, Angel? Young. Fresh. Alive." Her face morphed into the demonic visage he had already become horribly accustomed to. "Aren't you hungry for something warm, my love?"

Xander didn't think that things could get any worse, but they did. One glance at his rescuer revealed him to be staring down at him, the face that had looked so human moments ago bearing the same monstrous form as hers. "Oh, God, no." He whispered, falling to his knees. "Please, God, no."

His strengthless whispers appeared to pierce Angel. The vampire shook his head violently, and when he looked back at Xander, he appeared human once more. Guilt, and a beseeching apology rested on his face. "You don't know what love is, Darla." He said, still looking at Xander.

"Oh, you are so wrong, my dark Angel." She sidled up to him and ran her fingers along his shoulders. "You're the one who's forgotten. My love for you is all that keeps you alive now." She smiled, dimpling at the corners of her mouth. "And my knowing that deep down, you feel the same way."

"The only way I could ever love you, Darla, " Angel informed her darkly, "Would be as waft of dust on the wind."

She backhanded him across the face, hard enough for him to go stumbling back into the Monster Minions, who caught him and held him tight. She shook her head sadly. "Oh, my Angelus." She mourned. "So lost."

Again, her attention landed on Xander. Her voice was a mere whisper. "Do you know love, boy? Have you ever felt the hands of passion at your throat, the thrill of melding with one person into full ecstasy even as you feel as though you might die from the pain of it?"

She was close enough now that he could smell the copper on her breath. "Have you ever loved?"

Xander opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat - and thought of Willow. Her soft hair, her laugh, the secrets they shared, the times they fought - and answered without doubt. Maybe their feelings for each other would never grow beyond friendship, but he knew that he loved her anyways. "Yes. I know love. But what you described isn't love. Not real love."

"You see what I mean? Pure." She was talking to Angel, but still looking at Xander, her finger tracing the line of his jaw softly. "He'll learn. You know, I've come to the conclusion over the centuries that sometimes the best candidates for eternal life aren't those who are monsters in life - but angels." Darla picked up Xander's hand and kissed his fingertips. "The purer the heart, the more the change affects them." Holding Xander's hand, she finally turned to Angel. "Should we see how he turns out?"

Her fangs were in his neck before he could react. This was different than the other times, more painful and somehow sickeningly pleasurable, and the darkness rushed up to meet him. Dimly, he heard Angel's enraged scream but it somehow didn't seem important any more. Willow's face floated before his eyes. _Sorry, Will. _he thought, the thought not anguished or despairing, but rather languid, sorrowful and abstract. _I broke my promise_.

His murderer pulled away. He felt barely on the edge of consciousness, his vision swimming in and out, but he was able to realize that he was being cradled in the vampire's arms, his head lolling against her breast. "Xander, love." She whispered, stroking his hair. Her hand strayed from his dark brown strands and with one quick motion, slashed open the skin on her exposed breast. "Drink." She whispered, pressing his lips to her bleeding skin. "Join me."

"Darla, no…"

Angel's voice was unimportant. When the coppery taste began to fill Xander's mouth, his first impulse was to gag, but her hands stroking his throat encouraged him to swallow instead. The voice of his rescuer faded farther and farther away, and Xander began to pull greedily at the wound, his disgust changing to ecstasy and wonder at the sensations that were going through his body. This was the feeling Darla had been describing, he realized, this was love.

_NOOOOOOO!_ A part of him cried out in agony as he felt a wrench throughout his body, his body thrashing but the true anguish being spiritual as he felt himself change, felt his soul depart.

_Willow_. He thought as consciousness fled.

It was the last thing he saw in his mind, her sweet face, before the life he had was extinguished.

Xander Harris was dead.

Angel watched in horror as the boy he had come to save fell to the floor from Darla's lap, eyes wide and staring, blood smearing his mouth and chin. Darla's chest heaved, her eyes heavy lidded with pleasure, and licked her lips. The vampires holding him also seemed enraptured with the sight, an involuntary growl emanating from one behind him. _I'm so sorry, Xander_. He closed his eyes. _So sorry._

"Do you remember your first time, Angel?" Darla laughed, delighted with herself. She continued to stroke the dead boy's hair absently. "Of course you do. However could one forget? You rose quickly. Do you think he will sleep long? I've always found it curious, why one vampire will rise within minutes while others have to crawl out of their graves days later. Why do you think that is? "

"I don't know." His voice was frozen steel.

She stood, sighing. "Oh, Angel. Don't be so cold." She wrapped her arms around him and lay her head against his chest. "I miss you so much. I just want you to come home."

The hold the vampires had on his arms loosened as she continued her caresses. Angel saw an opportunity - maybe his only one - and took it. He melted into her, working his hand free and returning her embrace. "Darla. I've missed you too…"

Things happened too fast for the vampires behind him to react. The small wooden stake he had pulled from his rear pocket thrust through her clothing, cleaving skin and muscle to pierce her heart. She jerked back, betrayal and anger in her eyes. "Angel?" her eyes sought his.

She fell to dust.

The fight that ensued was quick not because there was a resolution, but because Angel simply used his supernatural speed and strength to push through his attackers and run like hell. He quickly left his pursuers and the dead body of Xander Harris behind him, but didn't slow down until he had reached the relative safety of the outdoors. Glancing at his watch, he was amazed to realize that not even an hour had passed since he had first ventured into the catacombs the Master resided in. It was only 10:00. Unbelievable. He sighed, walking home slowly and sadly. The decision to try and save the boy had been impulsive, as Darla had said, but he had to do it. Knowing that Xander was probably alive and existing in a living hell - he knew Darla well enough to know that it would indeed be hell - would have panged his conscience fiercely had he walked away from the situation simply because he didn't know the boy. He had to have tried something.

Things definitely hadn't gone the way he planned.

Damn it.

A face swam out of the darkness, greeting him as he awoke slowly, a face achingly familiar and yet the associations with it alien to him. Warmth, laughter, compassion, friendship…all terms he associated with this face, but whose meanings had changed, altered. And love. She loved him. He closed his eyes, feeling a hunger rise in him that was all consuming, and focused on that face in his mind. She loved him.

And he loved her.

Xander Harris rose from the floor slowly, taking in the room with his augmented senses, realizing that the walls that had seemed dark and dreary when he entered now had a velvet opulence to them, his eyes able to discern the slight changes in shade and texture that human eyes would never have be able to see.

She loved him.

He wanted to repay her for that priceless gift. His tongue ran along his teeth, hard, and the sweet, exquisite taste of blood filled his mouth. He spoke, his voice lower, and its timbre richer that it had been in life.

"Willow."

END OF PART TWO

Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

**But For the Grace of God**

**Part 3**

The revelations afforded to Willow due to her library time with Giles left her stunned. All manner of things that she had believed to be fictions, and unpleasant fictions at that, were actually truths hidden beneath lies created by the human race to retain its sanity. She definitely understood why this was so easily accepted by people – even now, knowing what she did, she didn't want to know, didn't even want to think about it. To go back to her simple life of homework, computers and Xander would have been the ideal of utopia for her.

Except for now Xander was gone.

Giles had tried to be positive about the situation, noting that the fact that Xander's body had not yet been discovered meant that there was still a chance that he was alive. But Willow wasn't stupid. The longer he was gone, the less likely it was that she would ever see him again, and though his words were optimistic, Giles' attitude was not encouraging.

Now that she had the information, though, she wasn't very confident about what she could actually do about it. There was no way that she could fight these monsters on her own – even if she managed not to simply freeze up and scream her head off, she wasn't exactly renowned for her physical prowess. No, that would be this Buffy girl Giles had kept muttering about, who was apparently the "Slayer." _Why couldn't have she been here, if she was supposed to be, _Willow thought bitterly, _then Xander might still be here. Safe._

Wishing wasn't going to make it happen, though. No matter how hard she wished or how much she wanted it Xander wasn't going to just magically appear and the truths about this world were not going to go away. Giles had sent her home, late, telling her to keep her spirits up and think positively, but she wasn't able to do so very well. A part of her even wished that she had not gone to the librarian because at least before, she had felt some hope. Ironically, now she felt none.

Her footsteps sounded hollow on the pavement as she walked home, hollow and alone. The night was uncommonly quiet, no dogs barking and even the crickets calm. Instead of being uncomfortable with the silence, however, Willow felt reassured by it, feeling as if she just walked long enough she would cease to hear only one set of footfalls and hear two, and she would look up and there he would be, quirky half smile on his face.

She felt a sob rise up in her, and sat down suddenly on the concrete of the sidewalk. Willow thought she might have cried more these past few days than in the entirety of her life, and the floods showed no sign of slowing. Sitting on the curb, her hands covering her eyes, she wept alone.

She was alone.

Alone.

"Excuse me…" a hesitant voice spoke up. Willow's head shot up, her eyes red, sniffling. The redhead from the library was standing there, his hands in his pockets, looking uncertainly at her. "Are you okay? I mean, I can see you're not okay, but…"

Willow pulled herself to her feet and wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "No, I'm all right. I just…just…" Her words were lost in another burst of tears.

"Hey…hey…" The boy – Oz, she thought his name was – patted her awkwardly on the back. "It's okay."

"It's just…just…"

"Hey, just breathe, all right? You don't have to talk." Oz's voice was soothing, concerned. Willow looked at him through a haze of tears and noticed the worried expression on his face. "Just try to calm down."

"I'm sorry," Willow hiccupped. She smiled weakly at him. "Just had a really bad week."

"Yeah, I know. I heard about your friends."

"Yeah."

"Are you going home now?"

"Yeah, I suppose I should." Willow blinked several times to rid her eyes of the last of her tears. "I should get home."

Oz hesitated, and then looked at her curiously. "Listen, don't think I'm trying to be too forward or anything, but you really don't look like you should be alone right now. I was just going to get some ice cream when I walked by. If you like, it would be real nice if you came with."

She saw through the lie easily – he was walking in the wrong direction to be going to the ice cream parlor – but suddenly realized that she really _didn't_ want to be alone, and at home all she had was her confused parents who just couldn't understand what was happening. She managed another pallid smile. "Thanks. I don't know if I'd be great company right now, though."

He shrugged and gave her a crooked grin. "You'd be fine. If you don't come, I'll just have to sit and talk to myself, and believe me, the arguments that sometimes come up there are just not fun. I do have a pretty good shoulder to cry on – a little bony, maybe, but that shouldn't make it any less cry-worthy."

To Willow's surprise, she actually laughed at that – a colorless, quiet laugh, but it was the most she had managed in days. "Okay. Thanks."

"No problem." They started down the sidewalk. " I'm Oz, by the way."

"Yeah, I remember Mr. Giles introducing you."

"I wasn't sure. You didn't seem altogether, well, you know, there."

"I've had a lot on my mind." She sighed. "Even more tonight."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Maybe." Giles had told her to keep quiet about much of what she had learned tonight. She hadn't needed a whole lot of encouragement to do that, remembering how she would have treated anyone who had started talking about vampires and demons walking around Sunnydale. She would have thought they were grade-A nut balls. "Right now I think I would just like a double chocolate mocha shake."

Oz looked impressed. "Wow, you really like the hard stuff." He smiled at her. "Double chocolate mocha shake it is, then."

**OoooOoooO**

Watching Willow and this boy – Oz, he'd heard him name himself – Xander felt a surge of hatred and hot jealousy. He had followed Willow home from the library, staying far enough behind and hiding in the shadows so that she wouldn't detect him. He didn't want to reveal himself to her quite yet. There was so much he wanted to share with her, to be impatient could ruin it all and lessen the enjoyment of everything.

This Oz, though. What was he doing with her? Without knowing it, Xander's features slid into their true form and he growled deep in his throat. Willow was his. Whoever this brass boy was would have to be dealt with. It was only a matter of time before he and Willow would be together again, and Xander wanted no unnecessary complications.

There would be time for all of that later, however. When he had awoken earlier, one of the Monster Minions – they had been none too pleased when he had called them that to their faces, but the Master had found it quite amusing - had taken him to the Master, who had been curious about the progeny his late favorite had sired. His grief over Darla had made him embrace Xander – a stroke of luck that Xander was definitely going to take advantage of. He himself had felt little pity for the vampire who had died moments after making him, but at the Master's request had agreed to hunt down her killer and bring him to the lair. It would get that pathetic wretch off the streets, for one thing, but more important to him it would curry favor with the Master. And though he was newly risen, Xander knew how exactly how valuable that was.

He walked slowly down the street, feeling the cool whispers of the breeze caress his skin. He really didn't know where to begin looking for Angel, but if he _was_ a friend of Willow's, then following her would probably lead him right to the renegade vampire. Which meant for now his interests coincided perfectly, which suited him just fine.

Turning the corner, he spied his house half a block down. The lights were on in almost all the rooms, including his. His mother had probably been spending time in there. He smiled. They were home, then. He walked across his yard, his acute ears picking up the sound of the television in the living room showing some sort of sports game and the sound of the water running in the kitchen as his mother did the dishes. The steps creaked under his weight, loud to him but probably unnoticeable to his parents inside. Stopping at the door, he let his features smooth into their human mien again, looked through the small window and took in the familiar scene – his dad sprawled on the couch, a drink on the end table next to him, half asleep as he watched the game. His mother he couldn't see, but could still hear her straightening up in the kitchen.

Xander knocked.

"Hon, could you get that?" His mom called from the kitchen. On the couch, his dad just grunted.

"Are you going to get that?" She repeated.

"There's only 12 seconds left on the clock. You get it."

His mother's exasperated sigh reached Xander. "Fine."

Click. Click. Click. His mother's shoes always made that noise on the tile floors of their house. The lock slid back and the door opened.

"Ye…"The words died in her throat. "Xander?"

"Hi, Mom." He felt a quirky one-sided grin spread on his face. From across the room, his father clamored rather awkwardly to his feet and headed for the door. "Hi, Dad."

"Xander, where have you been?" The tone his mother used was a blend of relief, anger, and confusion. "We've been worried sick!"

"Sorry." He knew he didn't sound it. That was okay.

"Sorry's not good enough, boy." His dad said darkly. "What the hell were you thinking? Where the hell have you been?"

_Where the hell, indeed,_ Xander thought, and almost laughed out loud. "Its kinda a long story, Dad." He looked from his father to his mother, who together were blocking the entrance. "Are you guys going to let me in, or what? I'm sorry, okay, but I'm really glad to be home."

The elder Harris backed away from the door. "Get in, then. But don't think this conversation is over, Alexander LaVelle Harris. You can't treat your mother and I this way."

Xander stepped over the threshold. "I promise I won't take off again without telling you guys. I know it wasn't very fair."

"Into the kitchen, Xander. We need to talk. You are going to be grounded for the rest of your natural life." His dad headed towards the back of the house.

Again, Xander had to suppress a laugh. This whole thing was just so much damn _fun._ "Okay, dad." He followed closely behind his parents.

His mom headed for the fridge when they entered the kitchen. "Sit down, young man. I don't know where you've been, but I'm sure you haven't been eating well. Are you hungry?"

The vampire smiled. "Very."

**OoooOoooO**

Willow surprised herself again by actually enjoying her ice cream with Oz to some degree. He was funny, smart and very empathetic, not pressing her about Xander or her earlier crying fit. He told her a little bit about the band he was in, Dingoes Ate My Baby, which she thought was a pretty cool -if a little morbid -name. She talked a little bit about her computer interests, and was pleasantly surprised to notice his own interest. It turned out he was a bit of a computer whiz in his own right. For the first time in days, she was able to put the horrible situation to a back burner in her mind and feel _normal_ again.

It was nice.

She returned home a little later than usual that night, but her parents weren't too upset. Willow was glad for that. The fragile calm she had reached could be shattered by just about anything, and she just hoped that it would last a little while. She couldn't help feeling a little guilty about enjoying herself, though, knowing that somewhere Xander could be hurt or even dea – no, she would not let herself think it. She would not.

Sleeping the first real sleep she had in days, she was unaware of the visitor who watched her from outside her window. The moonlight cast his shadow over her, veiling her face in darkness as she breathed slowly in and out, her face softened by dreaming. The shadow remained there for hours, stretching across the room as the moon sank into the earth, only leaving when the first purple streaks began to lighten the horizon.

Willow dreamed on.

The sorrow Giles felt for the girl Willow was heartfelt, and he hated giving her what he truly believed was false hope. He just couldn't bring himself to leave her bereft of it. Xander Harris was probably dead; he knew…that, he might have been able to tell her. But he didn't think he could have told her that Xander might have been turned himself. She was a smart girl, he knew, and she probably would think of that possibility, but to actually say it out loud would give it substance. The poor girl didn't need any more to think about. She had gone through too much already.

There had been no word from the Watcher's Council since that fateful call. He wondered if Donovan had finally managed to persuade the Council to his point of view, then decided it honestly didn't matter. He was going to have to end that part of his life now. Sunnydale need someone who knew of the dark forces at work here, even if it was a poor champion such as himself. When the Council called him back – as they no doubt would – he would simply decline. Until then he would wait.

"Hey."

Giles looked up to see Oz standing there. He had been so engrossed in his personal thoughts that he hadn't even noticed him. "Oh, hello, Oz. I almost forgot about your test."

"That's okay. Honestly, if you want, we can forget about it altogether…"

"Well, Ms. Peters might not be too happy about that."

The boy sighed. "There is that." He nodded resolutely. "Okay. Bring it on."

Giles handed him the test, and glanced at the clock. 3:20. He had hoped that Willow would be coming back in today, but it was looking less and less likely that she was. She probably needed time to digest all that she had learned yesterday. He hoped she would return, though – she had just enough information now to be frightened but not really enough to protect herself. If he could, at least he might be able to save one life in Sunnydale.

"Done." Oz passed him his exam sheet.

"Already?" Giles was a little surprised.

Oz shrugged. "Math's easy." He grabbed his bag and started heading out the library. "Later, Giles."

"Um, yes. I'll see you later, Oz."

Willow had been pacing outside the library for almost five minutes, wavering on her decision to talk to Giles and try and learn more about what she was facing. She didn't want to go in there, and possibly find out even more terrible things than the night before, but she knew that eventually she would – not knowing what these things were could be even worse.

She was just about to push open the door when it swung out towards her, knocking her to the ground in a graceless heap. "Ouch." She said, rubbing her forehead.

"Oh, geez, sorry!"

Looking up, Willow saw Oz standing above her, a chagrined look on his face. "I'm so sorry, Willow! I didn't know you were there."

Standing up, she shrugged. Dizziness receded. Good. "Its okay. You didn't do it on purpose."

"I know, but…"

"No, really, I'm all right."

"You sure?" Again, he had that same concerned look on his face as the night before.

"Yes." Maybe this was fate. Maybe it was telling her to stay away from Giles and all of the forbidden wealth of monstrous knowledge he offered. "I'm gonna have a little headache, but other than that I think I'll be fine."

"Okay." He paused. "Do you need a ride home? 'Cause if you do, you can catch a lift with me."

Willow shook her head. "Oh, no, that's okay. I'll be fine."

"Come on," pleaded Oz. "At least then I can pretend that I'm a nice guy and that I tried to make it up to you the next time I see you with a large blue egg on your forehead."

It would be nice to get a ride – her head did hurt. And suddenly she really didn't want to speak with Giles again. "Okay. Thanks.

"No problem. My van's just out in the parking lot."

They made small talk on the ride to her house, which didn't take too long. When they arrived, Willow didn't leave the van right away. "Oz, I wanted to thank you. For last night."

"Hey, no problem." Oz seemed a little embarrassed by her confession. "You looked like you needed a friend."

_How true that is. "_Still, thanks for, you know, giving me pity-party time."

Oz held his hand up to stop her. "Whoa, whoa. You think I stuck around just out of pity?"

She didn't want to answer that, but finally decided truth was best. "Well, yeah. I mean –"

Not letting her finish, Oz interrupted again. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it was purely selfish. No martyrdom for me."  
"But I couldn't have been very fun to be around. Really –"

He wasn't going to let her continue again. "It was great. You're a really amazing girl." His face went red, matching his hair. "I really liked spending time with you."

Wonder of wonders. Was she hearing this right? A boy – a cute, intelligent, _nice_ boy – liked spending time with her? Maybe she should have her hearing checked.

"In fact," Oz went on, "I was kinda hoping you would, well, want to go out to dinner tonight."

What? Dinner? What was that? "Dinner?"

He smiled. "Yeah, dinner. You know, that thing where you sit down, eat food, digest it and get nourishment from it? Some find the experience pleasurable with other people."

"Um, yeah." Could she sound any lamer? "Like, a date?"

"Date's a strong word." His voice was cautious. "Do you want to go on a date?"

_Yes!_ She immediately thought, then Xander's face floated in her mind. "I don't know." She said, suddenly deflated. "I don't know if I'm really up for that."

Oz nodded. "Okay. I understand." He sounded disappointed.

Willow bit her lip. "But I am hungry." She suddenly blurted. "Are you?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "I am."

"Well, then, if you're hungry, and I'm hungry, it makes sense that we should eat, right?"

"Right."

"It wouldn't have to be a date, just a two-people-eating-in-relatively-the-same-area activity."

He actually laughed at that. "Sounds great."

"Okay then."

"Okay."

They ate at a little Italian restaurant on the edge of town that had excellent manicotti, by Willow's taste. Her conversation was a little more animated than the night before, and Oz seemed to really enjoy himself. She did as well. She felt very comfortable around him, and for a while she was almost able to forget about vampires and demons and Xander being missing.

Almost.

**End of part three**


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to those who responded!

I am planning on continuing this, but I have a Star Wars Fic that's eating my life force to get written, too, so...

But, here goes!

This part is rated PG-13 ish for sexual content, but nothing worse than what has already been shown on Buffy before...just FYI...

**But for the Grace of God**

**Chapter 4**

**By Pyxelle**

Xander was on the move the moment the sun set. He had a firm destination in mind, of course, but still took the time to feed on a young woman who was out for an evening jog. She didn't really realize what was happening, he believed, him coming up behind her and quickly taking her. He would have liked to take his time with her, savor it a little more, but his eagerness to see Willow overpowered that desire. There would be plenty of time for that later, and he would have Willow to share it with then. How he was looking forward to that.

To his dismay, no one seemed to be home when he got there. He knocked, but there was no answer, and all the lights were out. But he was patient. She would have to come home sometime, and he was able to watch the house perfectly from the vantage point of a nearby neighbor's yard. He positioned himself on a child's swing set swing, and waited. A cat – probably the owner's, it looked too well taken care of to be a stray – was sleeping in the grass next to the swing, and it jumped up in his lap when he sat. Friendly cat. Xander stroked the cat's fur thoughtfully, feeling the pulse of its life beneath his fingers. She would be with him soon. The anticipation was killing him.

It was about 8:30 when Willow arrived home, and he felt the jealous fury when he realized that, once again, Oz was there. Xander would definitely have to do something about him. They sat in his van for nearly an hour, talking, about what Xander wasn't entirely sure about – even with his enhanced hearing he couldn't quite make out the words. His fists clenched harder and harder as each minute passed, fingernails digging into his palms and drawing blood. He didn't mind that. It felt good, reminded him of what he was here for.

Finally Willow got out of the van and walked to her house. The son of a bitch even walked her to the door, like they were on a _date_ or something. They paused a moment more, then Oz reached over and gave Willow a quick hug.

Xander heard a crack, and looked down. He had snapped the cat's neck.

He altered his plans. Disclosing himself to Willow would have to wait. He had to take care of Oz.

The door shut to Willow's house, and Oz walked slowly back to his van, a bemused, content little smile on his face. Xander couldn't wait to wipe that smile off. He tossed the dead cat aside and strode quickly up to the van, reaching it just as Oz was closing the door.

Knocking on the window to grab Oz's attention, he mimed rolling the window down. The other boy did so, and looked out the window curiously.

"Yeah?" His eyes widened. "Hey, I know you. Aren't you Xander Harris?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Where the hell have you been? Everybody thought you skipped town. Willow's been a mess – "

"How long have you known Willow?"

Oz seemed surprised at the question. "Well, not too long, but she's been having a pretty hard time at school. She kinda needed a friend."  
"Well, I've known her since she was five. She doesn't need any friends like you."

Looking hurt, confused and a little bit angry, Oz defended himself. "Well, at least I don't take off and leave my best friend to freak out for a week about me."

Xander's hand shot out suddenly, and gripped Oz around the neck. The boy made one strangled gulping noise and then silently struggled for air. The vampire's face shifted. "Well, I'm back." He leaned over, preparing for the kill, then stopped. He had a better idea. Holding on a moment more, he waited until Oz passed out and then released his chokehold. He reached over, and checked the boy's pulse – still strong and steady. Good. He opened the driver's side door and pushed Oz towards the back of the van, leaving him in a heap. The van started up with a roar and Xander pulled away from Willow's house.

Willow liked this guy, right? Far be from him to deny her. She wanted him, she would have him.

When the time was right.

**OoooOoooO**

Oz woke to a blinding headache. That wasn't the only part of him that hurt, though. His arms and legs were stiff and sore, and he quickly realized that they were held by manacles attached to the wall. That would explain the pain. He blinked, trying to clear his vision but having difficulty. The room was dark, and smelled vaguely musty. Even without a clear view he sensed he was underground, a basement perhaps. "Ah, hell." He muttered, pulling gently on the chains. It was futile, as he had suspected – there was no slack.

"Good, you're awake."

Squinting, Oz was able to see a dim shape not far from him. "Hello?" He asked, his voice hoarse. "What do you want with me?"

The lights suddenly came on, bright fluorescents that blinded his dark-adapted eyes. He squeezed them shut and opened them, letting himself acclimate to the light slowly. His guess had been right; he seemed to be in a basement, apparently in some kind of workroom. There were neatly arranged tools to his left, and a wooden sawhorse to his right. The tools were dusty, as if they didn't get a whole lot of use. The walls were painted a peeling yellow, which looked sickly in the harsh light.

"I don't want anything with you." Xander Harris said from his chair. He looked comfortable, in black jeans and a t-shirt, leaning back in the folding chair almost like it was a recliner. "Not really. You're just…a gift."

He looked human, but if Oz could trust his memory he was sure he was not. The recollection of Xander's demonic visage was vividly imprinted in his mind, and he kept seeing it superimposed over the innocence of the face of the boy in front of him. "What do you mean?"

"You really don't need to worry about it." Xander picked up a small round ring from the table next to him and pried it open with a pair of pliers. There was a small pile of them next to him, probably ten or fifteen. "I'm glad you woke up, though. I thought I was going to have to start while you were still unconscious. It would really lose something if you weren't awake."

"What would?" Oz was trying to keep the fear out of his voice but wasn't succeeding too well.

"Fifty percent of a gift is in the presentation." Pop. Another ring went on the table. "My mom told me that once. Wrap a present in pretty paper. You're a little too big to wrap up in Christmas paper – she's Jewish, anyways, so Christmas paper wouldn't be appropriate – so I thought of another way." He stood, and picked something off the table. "This is a piercing needle. I hope it's a large enough gauge. Wouldn't want the rings to rip through." He smiled, walking closer to Oz. "Though, they might. I really don't know too much about these things. This is the first time I've done this."

"Done what?"

"Well," Xander unchained the redhead's wrists from the wall. His feet and legs numb from being held in one position for so long, Oz almost collapsed, but managed to remain upright by reflexively grabbing on to his captor. Xander's smile remained on his face, devoid of warmth. "Given a gift of this magnitude." His hand swung out of nowhere and knocked Oz to the ground.

Oz lay there for a moment, on his stomach, and tried to gain his breath. He felt Xander kneel down, one leg on top of him, restraining him. He tried to squeeze out from underneath the vampire, but Xander's unnatural strength kept him pinned down. "Ever heard of suspension?" He asked, and Oz felt his shirt being ripped off. "Some people say it is a very enlightening experience. The pain clarifies their thoughts. I'm not sure if I believe it, though." There was a sharp, burning pain as Xander pierced the skin on his upper right back. "You'll have to tell me what you think." The needle slid out of his skin and quickly a ring was placed in the hole. His muscle spasmed as Xander used the pliers to close the ring back up. Oz gritted his teeth, stifling a scream of pain. He wasn't going to give Xander the pleasure. "How much do you weigh? I'm not really sure how many rings to put in. Wouldn't want your weight to rip them out." Another piercing pain, this time in his left side. "Ahh, I suppose I can make an educated guess." The pliers snapped the ring into place. "I have about fifteen rings, but I think I'll only need eight or so. You're a pretty tiny guy."

"Please." Oz flinched at the needle piercing the back of his neck. "Don't do this." He didn't know if appealing to whatever Xander Harris had become would be of use at all, but he had to try. "I've never done anything to you."

"Oh, I know." Another ring secured. "But I think Willow kinda likes you. I like to give her what she wants." Sharp pain in his lower back. "You shouldn't have messed with her."

"What!" Oz didn't understand what Xander was getting at. The Willow Oz knew, albeit for a short time, would be horrified by what was being done here. "Are you insane?"

"No." The pliers snapped together. "Not insane. Just…anxious."

He was done. From what Oz could tell, there were now eight steel rings embedded in his flesh, three down each side of his back, one on the back of his neck and one just over his tailbone. His entire back hurt. He felt Xander reaching over his head for something, then smelled the pungent odor of rubbing alcohol. "I'm almost done. Just need to disinfect the wounds." A fierce stinging greeted Oz when the first piercing was bathed in a splash of alcohol. "I don't know how long she is going to want to keep you, and giving a damaged gift wouldn't be very nice of me. Wouldn't want these to get infected."

Xander finally released Oz from beneath him, and pulled him roughly to his feet. "All done." He pushed the redhead in front of him. "Now, I can carry you to the next room, or you can walk. I prefer that you walk. But if you give me any trouble…" He pulled one of the rings sharply, and Oz gave a small cry. "I'm sure you can imagine something suitable."

"I'll walk." He gritted through his teeth.

"That's a good boy." Oz was led to a table across the room. He stopped cold when he reached it, staring in horror at the ropes hanging from the ceiling. At the end of each rope an iron hook was tied. "Hop up, now." He didn't move.

"Up, now." Xander repeated. "Sit on the table, ok?"

"Please." Oz whispered. "Please don't do this."

"I thought you agreed to cooperate." Amazingly, Xander sounded reproachful. "Am I going to have to remind you of that?"

Oz braced his hands on the table and hoisted himself up so that he was sitting on the edge. "No." He said through clenched teeth. The anger didn't completely bury his fear, but it helped. "I'll cooperate."

"Thank you so much." The vampire tied his hands together, then began to hook the rings up to the ropes. "Don't worry, I won't leave you alone too long. You can try and escape if you want, but I wouldn't recommend it. I'm wiring the hooks shut. If you're really ambitious you can try and just let the rings rip through your skin, but you'd probably pass out from loss of blood before you would be able to get out the door – which will be locked, by the way." He finished his work and gave Oz a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Okay. All safe and snug."

Hopeless despondency began to replace Oz's fear. He thought he preferred the fear. "You're a monster." He said softly, letting all the fury he felt color the quiet words.

Xander only grinned. "You noticed?"

**OoooOoooO**

Willow's parents were still gone. Every week or so, Ira Rosenberg would take his wife out to dinner and a movie, or something similar. This week it was a play at the local theater guild. The play was scheduled to run late, and then her mom had said something about dancing, so Willow was guessing they wouldn't be home until sometime around midnight. It was only ten-thirty. As much as she liked her private time, she kind of wished they were home right now. The house was silent and cold. It made her feel very lonely.

Oz had made the last few days a little bit better, though, she thought as she flipped on her radio and turned the volume up. A small smiled played over her face. He was no replacement for Xander, of course, but it was nice, not to be alone. He was nice.

The volume on her radio was of sufficient volume that she almost didn't hear the doorbell the first time it rang. The second time, she turned off the radio and glanced at the clock. Almost eleven. Who could be here at this time of night? She walked down the stairs slowly, peering through the window slits in her front door, trying to see who was waiting outside. Only shadows greeted her.

"Hello?" She started as she opened the door, but the word died in her throat.

"Heya, Will." Xander stood there, small smile on his face. His hair was slightly mussed, and he wore a black leather jacket that she didn't recognize, but he was still the most beautiful sight that Willow had ever seen.

"Xander?" She stood stock still, frozen by the sight of him. "Xander?"

"Yeah, that would be me." He sounded amused, even chuckling slightly.

"Oh, Xander." She leapt at him, bursting into tears and laughing a little hysterically at the same time. He caught her easily and returned her embrace heartily. "I thought you were dead."

"Nope, still here and kickin." He gave her a squeeze and released her. "Couldn't leave you behind, could I?"

"What happened? How'd you get away? Did they hurt you?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…slow down, Willow. Can I come in? We could talk somewhere a little more comfortable than in your doorway."

"What? Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Come in." Willow stepped out of the way and let Xander in. "Want something to eat? We could go to the kitchen. I think we have some leftover lasagna or something."

"No thanks. I already ate." He paused, glancing up the stairs. "Where are your parents?"

"Out. They probably won't be home for a while."  
"Let's go up to your room, then. Its more comfy up there."

Willow shrugged, then grabbed his hand. She held it tightly, like she was clinging to a life preserver. "Okay." She led him upstairs and sat next to him on her bed. "Now tell me what happened. How did you get out of there? What happened to Jesse? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm okay, Will. A little worse for wear, but okay." Xander's voice dropped sadly. "Jesse, though…he didn't make it."

"Oh, Jesse." Willow bit her lip to keep tears from falling, and clenched his hand harder. "What about you? How'd you get out?"

"Blind luck, actually. They kept me in a cage of some kind, for all the last week. They weren't too smart, though. Darla ended up getting in an argument with one of the others and getting herself killed. They forgot to lock up the cage after that. It took me a while to find my way back up here, and believe me, it was no picnic, but eventually I did."

"Have you been home yet? Your parents –"

"Already been there." He interrupted. "They know I'm ok." Grinning, he plucked at his clean shirt. "See? Cleaned up and everything."

"Yeah. You look good." Willow knew her eyes were getting that misty, far away look they sometimes did with Xander, but she didn't care. "Of course, you could be wearing a burlap sack and a bucket of dirt and you'd still look great."

"Thanks for the compliment." His hand strayed to fondle a wisp of her hair. "You look pretty good yourself, Will."

Willow's heart speeded up. The look in his eyes as he touched her hair was gentle, and yearning. It was a look Willow was familiar with feeling in herself, but not seeing on Xander's face. "Xander?"

"I got to thinking, locked up that way. About what is really important." His voice had dropped to a whisper. Willow felt his hand slide down to gently cup the side of her face. "I know how you feel about me, Will. And I know I haven't exactly been very reciprocating. But this past week…I've changed, Willow. Really changed." His face was just inches from hers. "I want to give us a chance, Willow. I want to see what will happen." The sound of his voice was almost inaudible. "I want you."

The press of his lips against hers was soft, cool and gentle. Willow didn't respond at first, so shocked was she, but quickly lost her inhibitions and began to kiss him back in earnest. His passion met hers as the kiss became deeper, and slowly Willow realized that his hands had slid down her back and she was almost sitting on his lap. She pulled back, gasping, and stared at him in wonder. "Xander…"

He put his finger against her lips. "Shh. Don't talk." He bent over, kissing her again, and Willow felt a thrill down to her toes. This had to be a dream. It had to be heaven. Hands ran up and down her back, sending unfamiliar tingles through her body, and dimly she realized that her shirt was being slid off her body. She broke the kiss, slightly alarmed.

"Xander, we shouldn't…"

"It's okay, Willow." Xander whispered, dropping her shirt to the ground. "Its right, can't you feel it? This is right."

"We're too young, we can't –"

"Willow, I could have died this week. I almost did. All I know for sure is that I am going to live life to the fullest from now on." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I want you to a be a part of that."

Willow felt herself relenting. This past week had been hell, true, and she had wanted Xander for so long…but this was all happening so fast, it was blurring into a haze of unreality. "But, Xander, I don't know…"

"I love you, Willow." The words were quiet. Her eyes met his, searching them. "I think I've always loved you. Sometimes, during the last week, the thought of you is all that made me get through it without going insane. I need you. I need to be close to you."

Life was uncertain. Willow knew that now, if nothing else, and looked into the face of the boy that she loved. He was right. This was right. "I love you too, Xander."

He smiled, lighting up his face and Willow felt an answering smile on her own face. "Thank you, Will." He kissed her again, and she responded with an abandonment that seemed to take Xander by surprise. Her hands tore at his clothing, and quickly his clothes began to join hers in a pile by the bedside. There was no hesitation, no fear.

Their bodies met in a storm that overwhelmed Willow's senses. She had never experienced anything like it, and a part of her wanted to cry out in ecstasy, but she was so swept along in the sensations that she was unable to make a sound. Xander's body felt cold against her hot skin, but this only heightened the extraordinary feelings coursing through her body. It was amazing. It was perfect.

They collapsed on each other, spent. Willow was breathing heavily, more physically exhausted than she had ever been in her life and yet strangely invigorated. Xander didn't even seem winded. She propped her head up on her arm, looking at him dreamily. "Wow." She said. That seemed to sum it up. "Wow."

"Wow." Xander echoed. "That does seem to describe it, doesn't it."

"Yeah."

"Hey." He sat up. "Feel up to going out?"

Willow frowned, looking at her clock. "Where? My parents are going to be home soon." Her eyes widened. "Oh, gosh. They are." She started pulling on her clothes frantically. "We got to get dressed."

Xander began dressing himself. "Just come to my house. For a little while."

She pulled her shirt back on over her head. Her hair fluffed up with static and she smoothed it down again. "Why?"

"I have a present for you."

"A present?"

"Yeah." Xander finished zipping his pants and gave her an imploring look. "Please come. You're going to love it."

She smiled at him. This whole night was blurring into a confusing, happy daze.

"All right." She replied.

**OoooOoooO**

This night was already going better than Xander had hoped. Being with Willow again was intoxicating, and he had to fight the urge to take her right then and there – but he would be patient. He would have to have some fun with her first. She deserved that, at least, for forgetting him for that little twit Oz. He couldn't just let that slide.

They walked hand in hand, the smell of her washing over him, the scent of her femaleness strong. It had been amazing, he would give her that, and he was anticipating the first time after her change with even more excitement than before. If she had been so uninhibited now, after she would be, well, an animal. He could hardly wait.

They reached his house, the lights all still on. He had dumped his parent's bodies in the sewers behind the school, confident that when and if they were found that there would be little to link it to him. As far as most of the town was concerned, he was still missing.

"Come on. It's in the basement." He let his fingers caress her face and relished the little shiver she gave.

"Okay."

He paused at the top of the stairs, locking the basement door. "Just in case my parents wake up." He cautioned her, lying easily. She nodded. "Down here."

Oz was in the back corner of the basement, still seated on the table, shirtless. He looked up with red rimmed eyes when they entered, his teeth clenched in pain. "Willow?"

The girl looked shocked and horrified. "Oz?" She ran up to him, cringing in horror at the apparatus hooked up to his skin. "Oh, my god, Oz what happened? How did you get here?" She turned frantically to Xander. "Xander, help me. What happened? How did he get down here?" She began to worry at the hooks, but Xander had secured them well.

"Don't you like your present?" He asked softly, leaning casually against the wall. "You seemed to like him earlier."

"Xander?" Willow's voice was hesitant, afraid. Good. "What's going on?"

"Get out of here, Willow. He'll hurt you." Oz's voice was strengthless, but held a note of firmness and resolution that infuriated Xander.

"And I thought it was such a thoughtful gift." Xander let disappointment color his voice as he walked over to the ropes looped over the rafters. He began to pull on them slowly. Oz cried out in pain as his body began to rise from the table, the skin pulled taut around the rings installed in his flesh. "After all, you were able to forget about me so easily with him. I thought you wanted him."

"What are you doing?" Hysteria was beginning to creep into Willow's voice. Excellent. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me." His face shifted, and he paused to appreciate the strangled scream that produced from Willow. "I'm perfect. A little hurt that you don't like your gift, but maybe later, when you've had a chance to appreciate it…"

Willow made a dash for the stairs, but Xander was too fast for her. He released the ropes, letting Oz drop down with a thud, and grabbed Willow's arm roughly. "Leaving?" He growled, throwing her to the ground at his feet. "I don't think so."

"Oh, god, no, oh, god, Xander." She was sobbing. Pity mixed with the scent of fear, which Xander didn't like nearly so much. He bent down next to her.

"God has nothing to do with this." He whispered into her ear.

"Please, Xander, please don't hurt me."

"Hurt you?" Somehow he managed to sound surprised. "I could never hurt you. I meant what I said earlier, Will. I love you. I'll always love you."

She ducked away from him, but again, he intercepted too quickly. "I thought you loved me too, but you let _him_ in so quickly, forgot about me so quickly…"

"Xander, no…I was so scared…I didn't…you can't be…" Her voice was breathless. "Please."

"You're afraid. Good." He pulled her close to him, feeling her blood surge within her. He breathed deep in the scent of her. "But you won't be for long. I promise." He kissed her ear, then bit it quickly, drawing blood. It tasted like strawberries. "Do you love me, Willow?"

"Oh, Xander, of course I do…please, please don't hurt me."

He gripped her shoulders roughly, and she whimpered in pain. "Stop saying that. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to help you."

"Let her go." Oz ordered weakly from the table.

"Shut up," hissed Xander.

"Please, Xander." Willow entreated, and he met her eyes. She flinched at his face, the striations on his forehead and feral yellow eyes obviously unnerving her. "I know you're in there somewhere. You don't want to hurt me or Oz. I know you don't. This isn't you."

His face slid into its human visage, and she relaxed ever so slightly in his arms. "Willow. It is me. I just need help. I need you, to keep me grounded. Please, stay with me." He could feel her relenting. Wonderful. "Please, stay with me." He repeated, letting his voice waver ever so slightly. "I need you."

Her eyes softened, the fear still prominent but her generous nature overriding it. "Of course, I'll help you. There has to be something we can do. Maybe Giles – "

"Giles? The librarian?" It was funny, how his mortal life seemed so vague, so unimportant, the details clear but distant and eminently forgettable.

"Yeah, he knows things, about vampires. There was this girl, someone named Buffy, some kind of supernatural slayer who was supposed to be here." She pushed herself to a sitting position. "He might know someway of helping you."

"And I want help. I do." He stroked her hair.

"Don't believe him, Willow. He's lying." Oz sounded angrier than a few minutes before. He could see through Xander's act, it was obvious. That was okay, though, as long as Willow accepted it. And she would, Xander knew. She wanted to believe it so badly that she wouldn't be able to believe anything else. "He's lying."

"We have to let him go, Xander." Willow's voice was fearful again, and Xander knew that Oz was getting to her. "He's hurt."

"Of course." He stood, gently pulling her to her feet. "He's yours. You can do with him whatever you want."

She looked at him, a wan, uncertain smile on her face. "I'm so sorry for what's happened to you. We'll find a way to help you, I promise."

He followed her over to the boy on the table. Oz was glaring at him with a hatred that was almost palpable. "He's lying, Willow. He is."

"Its okay, Oz. I've known him forever. He needs help, but I can help him. I'll find a way."

"No, he can't be helped. He's dead, Willow. Xander's dead. Whatever that is isn't him anymore."

"Of course it is, Willow." Xander came up behind her and kissed the top of her head gently. It was finally time. "Its me." He grabbed her head and bent it roughly to the side, exposing the slim, smooth line of her neck. She cried out. "I'll always love you." He bit down, hard, letting her lifeblood fill him with warmth and vigor. Oz screamed dimly in the background, but Xander's enjoyment was only heightened by the other boy's anguish. Let him suffer. The ebb of her pulse slowed, slowed, almost to a stop, and he lowered her body gently to the ground. He pushed her glorious red hair out of her staring eyes gently, cradling her in his lap. He bit his wrist, leaving a raw gash that dripped red onto the floor. "I'll love you forever." His wrist met her lips, spilling vitae over them.

"Forever."

End of Part 4


End file.
